


Azure

by Arithanas



Category: The Aristocats (1970)
Genre: F/M, French lingery, Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 00:10:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16586960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithanas/pseuds/Arithanas
Summary: On how Madame started her feline family





	Azure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DesertVixen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertVixen/gifts).



Georges heard Adelaide sing an encore with the same pleasure. Years could never dim the joy of her exultant voice and the lovely way her voice carried the lyrics to the other side of the theatre. People replied to her art with resounding applause that made the one he was carrying in his coat tremble. Absentmindedly, juggling to keep  _ Le Correspondant  _ safe in his hand, Georges caressed his pocket.

Adelaide came running past the drop scene, her costume rustling as much as the curtains. Her red hair, in elegant disarray, was so drenched that sweat drops were leaving wet trails on her heavy stage makeup. Even though Georges knew it was all over, and without any hope (or desire) to pick their romance up where they left it, he was willing to concede that Adelaide just off the stage was the most beautiful woman in Paris.

With a hurried step, Georges followed her inside her dressing room. Some stagehands snickered and the sound of their malicious voices followed him before he could close the door. Adelaide, oblivious to everything, was in front of the mirror, one knee on the stool, taking out the pins that held her beautiful hair up.

Georges stood by the door, waiting to be acknowledged. Adelaide was giving him the cold shoulder still, six months after they ended their relationship. The room was so quiet that Georges could hear the small pieces of metal bouncing on the wood.

“Adelaide, we must talk,” Georges finally said, tired of this horrible impasse.

His next action was to slap  _ Le Correspondant _ over the table, folded open to a theater review, making flowers tremble in the many overflowing vases. The tribute of many devoted admirers, Georges was sure. Adelaide looked at it with a lack of interest that could stop wars as she shook out her hairdo.

“Apparently, now it’s a crime to shorten Azucena’s skirt,” she said after a while. She had moved to unknotting the laces of her bodice.

“The scandal is that you are showing more leg than decorum allows.”

Adelaide stopped to look him in the face before opening her bodice with an insolent jerk. “Aren’t  they worthy to be seen?”

Adelaide’s breasts jiggled under her shirt as if they were daring Georges to disagree.

“You know they are,” Georges said with a sigh, his lips pursing at the memory of kissing those long, toned legs he had adored since seeing them in  _ Carmen _ . “But this is  _ Le Correspondant _ .  _ La Croix _ is even worse: they are sure that you are pregnant now and they speculate about the name of the father...”

Adelaide laughed heartily all the way behind the folding screen. Georges felt his blood climbing to his face: that laugh was impudent and alluring at the same time.

“And for that reason, I must double my subscription to Auclert’s  _ Société le droit des femmes _ ...” Adelaide’s shirt hit the floor with a wet sound. “Please, see to it.”

Georges felt his coat pocket to calm the little one there. Their fight was upsetting the dear, but this was a conversation they should have.

“I’ll do so, as your lawyer. As your friend, however—”

“What can you do as my friend, Georges?” Adelaide turned around with a powder puff in her hand. The folded screen spared Georges a look at her nipples when she gesticulated as if she were in a scene. “Defend my honor? You’ll end up with a bullet inside and your reputation in tatters.”

She laughed again, but this time it sounded like she was rehearsing the Queen of the Night. It bit Georges’s heart with its cynicism.  

“I’m an actress! I have committed the heinous crime of not being a wife and a mother by the age of twenty.”

Adelaide paused just enough to slip her corset over her head. This time Georges had an eyeful, but the pleasure was short lived. Adelaide returned to pierce him with her dark eyes in a blink and with a vengeance.

“Little minds—and as your friend, I must tell you I’m afraid yours may belong to that category—can’t conceive of a woman who’s not a mother or a virgin.” She bent down, probably fixing her stockings to her garters. “I’m not a mother, and I refuse to be one!” She tossed her wet bloomers in his general direction, missing him by a handspan. Then she left her hiding place, charging toward him. “And you,  _ monsieur, _ can bear witness: a virgin I am not!”

Georges raised his hands as if he were asking for a truce. Adelaide stopped, strands of her fiery red hair stuck to her wet cheeks.

At that moment, the little one in his pocket peeked out and let out a prim meow. 

Georges drew her out, knowing this unwilling go-between was tired of the argument. She was a lovely white kitten Georges had found by the stage door, shivering and alone. Georges had picked her up without a set design because the sight of that lovely being alone in the street put his heart in a vise.

Adelaide gasped and reached out. The kitten jumped into her hands with unexpected grace.

“Hello, you pretty cat,” Adelaide practically cooed as her long finger caressed the spot between the perky white ears.

The kitty meowed softly, raising a white paw.

“Of course, manners before everything else.  _ Enchantée, mademoiselle! _ ” Adelaide replied, touching that little paw with her finger.

“Is it a she?” Georges wondered, and joining the action to voice, raised the tail to look for telltale signs.

An indignant, high pitched hiss was his reward, and it was followed by a quick slap summarily supplied by a still-fuming Adelaide.

“Georges, how rude.” Adelaide placed the kitten on her corset-lifted bosom.

“Apologies, my dear,” Georges said, doffing his hat just a bit.

“Oh, my,” Adelaide said, ignoring Georges to bathe the kitten with all her attention. “What beautiful eyes you have. Blue enough to drown all blues.”

“Adelaide, what do you plan to do with the press?” Georges insisted as she saw her move to her divan, still in her unmentionables.

“Nothing.” Adelaide rested her weight on the soft velvet. She looked like a Renoir:  _ Pitiless Lady with a Polite Kitten _ . “Let them choke on their bile. I’ll sing because I want to and I won’t go away a second before I want to. Don’t you agree, Empress?”   

The kitty purred her agreement to the name and the resolution. 

Georges knew when a battle was lost. With a small bow, he turned toward the door.

“Georges,” Adelaide called with a soft voice.

“Yes?” It was not that Georges expected gratitude, but he liked the tone.

“You may take me dancing next Friday. And, please, don’t forget to double my subscription.”

Georges smiled. Adelaide was still the most charming of women. In two long strides, Georges reached the divan, knelt, and deposited a kiss on Adelaide’s hanging hand.

“I will, and I won’t, dearest of all Adelaides.”

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to R. who has been, as always, a terrific beta.
> 
> DesertVixen, you might wonder why the cat name was not Duchess. As my beta said: if Madame is as young as to have rumors about pregnancy, it couldn't be Duchess (I'm paraphrasing). So, this is Duchess' grandmother, and you can see where Mary got her spirit. I hope you liked this tale about a younger Madame who was already a cat lover.


End file.
